


A Perpetual Feeling

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crying During Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Flash Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, Philippa Georgiou Lives, PoV Philippa Georgiou, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, happy ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 09:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: S2 Canon Divergence: Philippa Georgiou lives, and she and Michael get their happy ever after.





	A Perpetual Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radiolaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiolaria/gifts).

> This fic was written in one session after I was inspired by Radiolaria/onaperduamedee's [fantastic fanart](https://onaperduamedee.tumblr.com/post/186651600798/you-were-dead-philippa-i-mourned-you).

_in a world full of temporary things / you are a perpetual feeling._ \- Sanober Khan

“You were dead, Philippa. I mourned you.”

Michael’s soft, mellifluous voice is full of pain, and Philippa Georgiou can’t help reaching out for her former First Officer, her hand clasping her elbow even as Michael steps closer and lightly grips her shoulder, her dark eyes full of emotion as she drinks in the sight of her former Captain. Her right hand comes up to cup Philippa’s cheek, and there’s a sheen of tears in her eyes now.

“There were times when I wished I had died,” Philippa admits huskily, her other hand reaching for Michael. Then she sighs softly as their bodies meet and Michael’s strong arms encircle Philippa’s tired body, drawing her in close and holding her carefully, as if her former Captain is incredibly precious.

“I am so glad you didn’t, after all,” Michael says in a low voice, and Philippa feels a splash of a tear on her bare shoulder, then dampness on her cheek and Michael shudders briefly as she struggles to master her emotions.

“So am I, now,” Philippa tells her. Her hold on Michael isn’t as strong – she’s grown weak without proper food or exercise in the past eighteen months. “I missed you.”

The admission feels both terrifying and freeing at the same time: terrifying because she’s been keeping her feelings for Michael on a tight leash for almost as long as she’s known the young woman, but freeing because now that they’re no longer in the same chain of command, she can freely admit that she’s loved Michael Burnham for years.

“I missed you, too,” Michael murmurs into her neck. “So much.”

They remain locked together for what feels like hours to Philippa but is probably only a matter of minutes in reality. Then Philippa hears another woman’s voice, gentle and caring, just behind them. When she opens her eyes and looks up she sees a taller black woman dressed in medical whites, gazing at them both. There’s compassion in her expression, and when she looks from Philippa to Michael as the latter straightens up, there’s a tenderness in her eyes that makes Philippa wonder just what her relationship is with Michael.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the Doctor says in a gentle tone, “but I do need to give the Captain a thorough medical exam before I can release her from sickbay.”

Michael nods, then steps back slowly, her hands seeming reluctant to let Philippa go. She reaches up to cup her cheek again, then says, “Of course. Thank you, Tracy.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can, sweetheart,” the Doctor – Tracy – says, and Michael nods again, then moves a little further away, but she lingers only a short distance from the biobed beside which Philippa's still standing.

“Can you hop up for me, Captain?” asks the Doctor, and Philippa turns and carefully climbs up onto the biobed.

Philippa keeps her eyes locked on Michael throughout the medical exam, answering Tracy’s questions in as much detail as she can. She sees Michael wince more than once at her answers, and feels a surge of guilt that she cannot keep the young woman from knowing just how brutal her life has been over the past year and a half.

Eventually Tracy has no more questions, and she has finished her physical examination, too. “All right, Captain, I’m done. Captain Pike has directed that you be assigned quarters while you’re aboard _Discovery_.” She glances at Michael, and says, “The guest quarters on Deck Three, he told me to tell you.”

Michael nods. “I know them.”

“He also said he expected to complete a full debriefing with you tomorrow, once the Admirals get here,” Tracy tells Philippa, and Michael asks, before she can,

“Which Admirals?”

“Katrina Cornwell and Terral,” Tracy says, and Philippa can tell Michael likes that answer. She doesn’t know Terral, except that he’s Vulcan, but Kat Cornwell is one of her oldest friends, and she can’t say she exactly minds seeing her again.

“Michael, you’re off duty for the rest of the day,” Tracy says and when the young woman gives her a startled look, she adds, “Captain Pike assumed you’d want to spend some time with your Captain. He told me to tell you that he’ll expect you and Captain Georgiou in his Ready Room at eleven hundred hours tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Tracy,” Michael says in a heartfelt tone.

“Don’t thank me, thank the Captain,” Tracy says, and catches Michael’s hand in her own long enough to give it a brief squeeze, then nods at the sickbay entrance. “Now get out of here.”

Philippa sees Michael squeeze Tracy’s hand in turn, then she moves to the side of the biobed, and asks diffidently, “Do you need a hand?”

She nods, not too proud to admit when she needs help, and Michael simply lifts Philippa down and sets her on her feet.

“You’ve been working out,” she observes, surprised.

A fleeting smile crosses Michael’s face. “Regularly,” she says simply.

They make their way out into the hallway, Michael leading the way towards the turbolift.

“Tracy seems like a good doctor,” Philippa observes.

Michael’s expression lightens again. “She is. We’re very lucky to have her.” She swallows, then adds, “She’s one of only two people who befriended me when I first came aboard the _Discovery_ after Lorca forcibly recruited me from prison to the war effort.”

Philippa is taken aback. “Gabriel Lorca did that?” she asks, and is confused when Michael winces.

“It wasn’t this universe’s Captain Lorca,” she says, then shakes her head. “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t have anything else to do today, besides rest,” Philippa says carefully. “If you want to tell it to me that is.”

“And will you tell me something of how you came to survive?” Michael asks. “If it’s not too traumatic.”

“I’ll tell you,” Philippa agrees.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

Three hours later both tales are told, and there’s been a great deal of emotion swirling around Philippa’s new quarters, but they are finished for now. They’re sitting on the couch, arms around each other, and Philippa is snuggled into Michael’s side. She feels safe and protected, something that she hasn’t had the luxury of feeling at all since she awoke after T’Kuvma nearly slew her. She can’t quite suppress a yawn, which Michael notices immediately, of course.

“You should get some rest, Philippa,” the young woman says.

“I am resting.”

“I meant on the bed,” Michael says, and shifts. Moments later, Philippa finds herself being carried the short distance from the couch to the bed.

“You know, I could get used to this,” she says lightly.

Her First Officer snorts. “Don’t,” she says, and Philippa can hear the barely suppressed mirth in her voice.

Michael sets her down on the bed as carefully as if Philippa’s made of something delicate. “Should I replicate you some sleepwear?” she asks, and Philippa sighs.

“Yes please.”

She nods, then moves across to the replicator, then glances back at Philippa. “A tee and some sleep pants?”

Philippa nods, and struggles to tug off one of her boots. Moments later Michael’s kneeling beside the bed and gently moves Philippa’s hands away before untying the laces on both boots, then easing them off her feet.

“Thank you,” Philippa says. Weariness is weighing her down, now, and she wants nothing more than to sleep.

The replicator finishes and Michael goes to fetch the tee and sleep pants for Philippa, who is trying to get her own pants off.

“Can I help?” Michael asks, diffident again.

“Yes please.” She stops struggling and lets Michael get her pants off. It ought to feel awkward, she supposes, having the young woman take her clothes off, but it just feels right.

Michael helps her into her sleepwear, as well, and when she starts to step away afterwards, Philippa catches hold of her hand and says, “Would you mind staying with me?”

The young woman looks startled by the question, which isn’t really surprising, but she smiles shyly after only a momentary pause. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Philippa lies down, and makes no pretence of not watching as Michael strips off her uniform jacket, leaving her in a plain black t-shirt with ‘Disco’ written across the chest, then pulls off her boots.

“Do you mind if I ditch the uniform pants as well?” Michael asks.

Philippa is surprised by the request, but has no objections. “I don’t mind,” she assures her, and Michael slips off her pants too, then circles the bed and climbs in beside Philippa.

“Shall I be the big spoon?” Michael asks, and Philippa’s startled into a gurgle of laughter.

“Yes, please. Thank you.” She lets Michael snuggle in behind her, her strong arms wrapping securely around Philippa’s torso. “This is the most prolonged physical contact I’ve had since – actually I don’t recall, but it’s been a long time.”

“Let me know if it gets too much,” Michael says firmly.

“I doubt that it will, but thank you.” She closes her eyes, and wonders briefly where Michael learned of ‘spooning’ as a concept, then she’s asleep.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

When she wakes up some time later, Philippa finds that she and Michael have their legs tangled together as they lie facing each other, and Michael has her right hand under her tee and dangerously, no pleasantly, close to her left breast. Her own hands are positioned just as dangerously, yet pleasantly – the left one is under the back of Michael’s tee, while her right hand is resting on her inner thigh, embarrassingly close to the entrance to her sex.

Just as Philippa is sleepily registering all these things and telling her uncooperative limbs to move, Michael’s eyes open and she smiles dazzlingly then, in a voice scratchy with sleep, says, “Hello Philippa.” Before Philippa can formulate a response, Michael leans in and presses her lips to Philippa’s, and the Captain could swear she feels her Klingon-repaired heart stutter in her chest. She presses her mouth back, and Michael sighs, then opens her mouth, and Philippa finds herself kissing, and being kissed by, Michael Burnham. It’s every bit as delightful as Philippa has always dreamed, and when Michael’s right hand slips the couple of inches higher that’s needed for her to cup Philippa’s breast, her Captain moans softly. Then she shifts her own right hand and presses the tips of two fingers against her entrance, inducing a moan from Michael.

“Philippa,” she gasps. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Philippa asks.

“Very sure,” Michael says firmly. “I’ve wanted to be with you for such a long time.”

“And I’ve wanted to be with you,” Philippa assures her, then she hooks aside the crotch of Michael’s underwear and pushes the tips of her fingers into Michael’s sex, finding her already slick and warm.

Michael moans, lifting her hips and gazing at her longingly. That’s all the encouragement Philippa needs to push her fingers deeper, and she’s soon fingering Michael fast and hard, the young woman’s hips canting upwards at each thrust.

“Please, Philippa,” she gasps, then, “More. Please.”

Her Captain feels a little surprised at this request, but when she thrusts her fingers back inside, she’s added a third one, and Michael cries out, then her inner walls begin spasming around Philippa’s fingers.

“Don’t stop!” Michael begs. “Please, Philippa. Don’t stop!”

Philippa doesn’t stop. She simply continues to thrust deep and hard, until Michael climaxes a second time, calling out incoherently. It takes Philippa a moment to realise that Michael is crying, and she immediately withdraws her fingers, then cups her cheek with her clean hand and asks softly, “What is it, love? Did I hurt you?”

It takes Michael a few moments to answer, and she waits patiently, thumbing away the tears that are slowly trickling down her face.

“I’m okay, Philippa,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. It’s just an emotional release as well as a sexual one.”

Philippa nods, feeling relieved, and they kiss and cuddle for a bit until Michael says, “I want to make you come, Philippa.”

“Yes please.”

Michael settles her on her back on the bed, tugging her sleep pants and underwear off completely. Then Philippa sits up long enough to tug off her tee, and Michael groans, then leans down and peppers kisses across her breasts before taking one nipple in her mouth and sucking hard. Philippa gasps when Michael uses her teeth, then groans when she slides two fingers into her slick heat while continuing to use her mouth on Philippa’s breasts. It doesn’t take Michael long to bring her to a climax, and she cries out as her orgasm seems to slam into her body, then she feels her body beginning to build up to a second orgasm, and Philippa is astonished that she’s ready again so quickly – she normally needs longer to get off a second time.

Then Michael shifts so that Philippa’s thigh is between her legs, and she begins rocking her core against Philippa’s leg even as she drives her Captain towards a second climax.

“Michael!” She more or less wails her lover’s name as another orgasm explodes through her. Then Michael leans down and takes her mouth in an intense kiss. She continues to rock against Philippa’s thigh, and Philippa watches in awe as Michael drives herself to an explosive climax.

Once they’ve both got their breath back and feel capable of moving they make their way into the bathroom to take a shower. Philippa can’t resist kissing her new lover as they stand under the spray of warm water, and Michael groans, then slides the palm of her hand down over Philippa’s mound and teases her clit with the tip of her middle finger.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Philippa asks.

“Is that okay?” Michael asks. “If it’s not, I can wait. I don’t want to wear you out.”

“Just once,” Philippa says, “then I need to eat and refuel.”

“Of course, love,” Michael says, and Philippa feels a thrill of pleasure at the endearment.

Of course Philippa has to reciprocate once Michael’s driven her to another intense orgasm, and she slips three fingers into the young woman’s slick heat and drives her to a release while kissing her avidly.

As they get dressed again after their shared shower Philippa can’t help thinking it was worth almost dying if she gets to have Michael Burnham as her lover.

She sits at the table by the viewport, watching as Michael begins replicating meals for them both. She has no idea what the future holds, but she is determined to have Michael in it – now that they’ve begun an intimate relationship she cannot bear the thought of giving it up. She hopes Michael feels the same way because her First Officer makes her very happy, and she very much wants to make Michael happy too.

As Michael carries the tray holding their meals across to the table she smiles brightly at Philippa, and her Captain thinks that this is something she wants for every day – a smiling Michael sharing meals with her. And spooning together in bed, and having sex in the shower, and cuddling on the couch. Right now, she wants domesticity with Michael Burnham – she just doesn’t know if that is something they can achieve within Starfleet.

She shelves that thought for tomorrow – it’s something she needs to discuss with both Michael and Katrina, but for now, she’s going to focus on her food, and her lover smiling at her across the corner of the table. This is enough for the time being, and it’s far more than she dared hope for when she was scavenging to stay alive on Qo’noS.

Michael leans over and presses her lips to the corner of Philippa’s mouth. “Eat up, love,” she says in a low voice, and Philippa feels her heart flutter at the words as much as the gesture.

“Thank you, love,” she says, and copies Michael’s kiss with a smile of her own.


End file.
